The five secrets of
by x.Chrysanthemum.x
Summary: Just like the name implies. rated T for language rarely. Was once a one-shot, but now expect more chapters revealing everyone's dirty laundry.
1. Torn The Commander

"**The five secrets of Torn."**

_Number one: I sleep with at least one light on._

I never got over my nightmares.

I guess I can't justify this being ok, but I'd be damned if it isn't the whole truth. 30 years of torture will do some crazy stuff to your head I'm sure. No one has ever known me to chicken out of anything. Not even Ashlien knows about my nyctophobia, and I intend to keep it that way. Pride is the one thing the baron didn't seize from my hands.

The funny thing is I can't remember a time where I wasn't afraid of the dark.

I'm often perplexed with memories trying to unveil when and why I was suddenly in a cold sweat when the sun went down and all I come up with are foggy washed details of my childhood. Sometimes I remember that time when my grandmother had an asthma attack due to the smog of the city. It was so dark and grimy outside that day. I went out into the slums yelling for help like a mad man, because we couldn't afford something as trivial as an inhaler. I was eight years old when that happened, but I was still afraid of the dark so I force myself to think back further back to when my old man was still alive. Well just barely alive. I only physically saw my father one time, and that was the day he died. Grandma was weeping over him. I couldn't even understand how she knew it was dad with his helmet still on and blood smeared all over his face. I couldn't even tell it was a man, let alone my father that worked as a KG guard. I remember he was complaining, no he was whimpering, about the world getting dark and how cold he was. The story goes that he jumped in front of a metal head to save the heiress to the praxis throne. Some girl my age named Ashlien who went to private school. I saw her one time. She had on this girly school uniform and her red hair was drawn into two pigtails, but that's all I saw from her since a bunch of KG goons were surrounding her like she was the city's only reason to live. The baron never gave his thanks to our family.

I guess I didn't understand politics back then, because the only thing I learned from my father's death to protect some self asserted princess was that the dark meant a very painful death was coming.

_Number two: I never really had anything against Daxter._

Daxter: Hey! Tattooed Wonder! How come _we_ get all the crappy missions?  
>Torn: <em>(emphasizing each word)<em> Because _I...don't...like...you._  
>Daxter: <em>(meekly)<em> Fair enough.

I remember that conversation with the fuzz ball well. It's not that I didn't like him…well let me rephrase that, because at the time I loathed that creature. He wouldn't shut up and he was so cocky to be so small. I guess at the time I didn't trust Jak. He could've easily been a spy and the worst could've happened. But back on the subject. Daxter isn't such a bad guy, once you get past the smell, annoying sense of humor, and that god awful story telling. I never had any friends and if anything I respected him of sticking to Jak, for no reason at all. The more I watched the two the more envious I got. Jak of course was the great Mar and yadda yadda. I wasn't jealous because of Jak's power; if I wanted power I could've stayed in the Krimson Guard. It was Daxter. He could be whatever he wanted to be. And he wasn't afraid to express himself. I had to be reserved top commander twenty-four seven. But daxter. He was …daxter.

However I will take that to my grave.

_Number three: I like sharp objects._

My sister used to cut herself.

My knife is my most prized weapon. I love it more than my twin pistols though I never use it. I had a collection of knives to be honest. More like an "obsession" according to Jinx who accidently stumbled on it while wondering the hidden room of the underground. Of course Jinx shrugged it off. To him, liking sharp objects was mellow compared to the pyro-manic he was. I have over two-hundred knives of varying sizes and shapes and I shined them up every other day.

As I said before my sister cut herself. I can only be so general, because I don't remember the details. My sister's face was always twisted in some lonesome expression and had dried tears and dirt on it. I like to think she would have been pretty if we had water to wash up everyday. Anyways late at night I used to sneak into my sister's room after grandma was out working. My mother was apparently a lost cause, because she was just M.I.A for most of my life. Grandma would tell me stories, but somehow I guess they weren't ever good enough. But my older sister had the curse of actually knowing both of our parents before they left.

I say curse because wisdom can be hell. I think she understand how corrupt Haven was before anyone else. She sensed the foul atmosphere because I even could stick my head out the window. Her wisdom of the world wasn't the bad part. It was the part that Ren was _absolutely fucking helpless _to do _anything _about would watch her friends and family die one after another and she could only watch as the city decays. So to curve her pain she took razors, pens, I even seen Ren sharpen rocks and dig into her porcelain skin with ease. Ren never stopped when she knew I was watching her, and she finished she would wipe off her blood and take me into her arms. Sometimes when she was at school I sneak into her room and play her cutting tools.

_Number four: I have a huge sweet tooth_

I was busy checking over my shoulder as I was walking down the street. I was clearly unnerved about who was watching me. Ashlien was looking at me with a curious, yet amused stare. The governor of Hevan took my hand and held it tight. "It's just chocolate cake, Torn." She mused and I proceed to shush her as I held the pastry box a little closer to my chest. "Don't say that too loud."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head making her dreadlocks shake.

Not much to this secret expect when I was a kid I couldn't afford a loaf of stale bread, let alone candy. So when pay day came around well I couldn't help but to binge. Some people are chain smokers like the queer Razor guy we encountered in Kras City, Jak's woman could last an hour without checking her version of the bible, an engineer's magazine. Me, I had to have cakes, candies, pies… one day a month I gathered as much as I could and just consumed it all day.

But you see, I am the general of an elite group. Mr. hard ass himself. If I ever got caught consuming a box of Girl Scout cookies… I wouldn't hear the end of it.

I looked over my shoulder and swiftly brought Ashlien in for a quick peck on the cheek and she smiled. "We better get a move on, sweetheart. The doughnuts sell like hot cakes."

"Whatever you say, cream puff." She giggled in a hush tone.

_Secret number five: I love my life._

Well now I do. Not that I'm an emotional wreck here. Let me explain.

I love being able to hold Ashlien when she's angry. I'm the only one who could calm here rage and I thought that that was one of the best things about our relationship.

I love exchanging acrid comments with Daxter in the Naughty Osstel. I loved the way Jak would roll his eyes in a purely platonic way. I loved the way Tess would always smile at me despite my mean leering expressions. I loved the way Sig and Jinx made jokes about Samos and Onin behind their backs. I loved the challenges we faced and most of all I loved the outcome. Living here in the Haven we all worked in to recreate. It's what I loved most.

I loved how I could finally smile and be at peace, but if anyone knew I had gone soft Jak would never let me here the end of it.


	2. Jak The Renegade

The Six secrets of Jak. Jak get a bonus cause he is the hero!

1. I have commitment issues.

That first kiss told me everything I ever needed to know. Those green eyes were all I needed to stay grounded. And that milky, silk skin was all I needed to feel to know that I was alive. I always knew I would only love Kierra. I knew that well. But after that one night of passion, I realized how uncomfortable sharing the warmth of a clean fluffy bed was. I spent too much time alone. Too much time being a killer, to be here right now. I spent too much time on the road; never looking back, to come home to a meal every night. I spent too much time fighting back literal demons to let my body act on impulse and hold the girl and against the wall and press my lips to hers.  
>I liked the thrill of adventure too much to not think about it. Like a bad case of indigestion, thoughts of excitement and adrenaline bubbled up and begged to be heard. It whispered to me, what I already knew, but wanted to ignore me: four walls aren't enough to hold me. I often stare at her as she sleeps. Watching her breathe and move carefully remembering each muscle tense. What a faith it is to hate the person you cannot live without. Such is the life of a caged bird. A part of me wishes she'd let me run off to Spargus. But truth be told, I would grow weary of sitting on a throne too.<br>But that's life when you have commitment issues.

2. Two words: adrenaline junkie

it's so obvious, but it always have been this way. As a child I would drive off cliffs for kicks. I couldn't sit still. Maybe it was that Spargus blood, but I always loved danger. Once, as a kid I decided that my life was dull. So dull I needed something that would make me feel alive. What I picked was cliff diving. Yes. A cliff dive- at night and by myself. I planned out every detail, but did I remember that the moon made whirlpools something fierce this time of the year? No. It was a fight, but after a while and a lot of swallowed sea water I managed to drag my battered body on the sandy beach and turn over. I laid there breathless and rethought my event. Reliving my excitement when I realized I got a kick out of the rush. That not only did I want adventure I thrived on it. For then on out-I would have a habit for attaching trouble. Had I known what that trouble landed me, I'd say my ass in bed that day we went to Misty Island.

3. I picked up knitting as a hobby

Yeah, yeah. Big fucking deal. It calms my nerves alright? You wouldn't want a guy like me antsy and angry right? Good. Now moving on.

4. I don't know how to feel about my murder victims.

I nightmare every night. Every. Night. Some aren't bad and I roll over. Some make Kierra shake me awake and she will hold me till I stop shaking. And there are those I only tell Daxter about. Those are the ones where I remember the faces of the people I killed, both good and bad. Some deserved to die, others were caught in a cross fire- but all of their faces were cold and lifeless. Then I can see my body enjoying the corpses. I think its dark since he is the evil on and when I try to fight him back he doesn't go. I think its light, but he doesn't fade. I finally realize it's me. Just me. And I wake up in fear and confusion. Because I am afraid I enjoy becoming that monster. I am scared that I enjoy slicing flesh. I am horrified that dark isn't the monster- I am.

5. My priced position is my father's journal.

Damas left a detailed journal of his life that I read every night. It talks about the family I never had. The life I will be able to never live. (Think about that shit!) It shows how beautiful my mother was and how she came to love my father. How heroic my father was. His fall from glory and stops just before his death. I think he had a feeling I was his son, just like it felt like I always knew Damas. I memorized every line of the journal yet I read it every night. For my 22nd birthday last year, Kierra presented me with my own journal. It sits blank, because I never been a writer although I absolutely loved the gift. Maybe one day the great Mar will use the journal better than Jak can.

6. There is not one person who knows everything.

Daxter- my best friend knows a lot about me. Even things I wish he didn't know. He knows how I act, my struggles, my pet peeves, and a lot of stuff. Kierra has my heart, but I haven't told either of them everything. We never talked about how my life was in prison. I never told him about I looked up to him. And what's even crazier is my decade long lie. I pretend to me older than what I am. My 22nd birthday last year was really my 20th. Puberty was good to me, what can I say? Plus I can't let Daxter know he is older than me.

(A/N. I got plenty of reviews and Pms and I realized this fic. was pretty much my best. I am going to not make this a one-shot, and do all the characters to the best of my ability. Enjoy!)


	3. Ashelin The Warrior Queen

1. I miss my father greatly.

This truth disturbs me and I try hard not to think about it, but late at night my heart sinks in the pit of my stomach and sits there as though it is being melted by the stomach acid.  
>As a tyrant and ruler my father did a lot of purely evil things. He cared little for the innocent and cared a lot for his pockets.<br>But as a father, he was the only one I knew. I used to look up to him and the lies he told me. "Look Ashelin. One day you'll rule this city and you promise me one thing. You rule better than me." He'd tell me. "The fist of Praxis is Iron. We know not of failure, but of power." And I believed him. It made me strive to continue my 'perfect person' routine and I praised him. And I mistook that idolization for love. My father never told he love me, however he never showed me he didn't. I was spoiled, I was educated, and I was lied to.  
>Yet despite my happiness he is dead-I still smile at the memory of 'being daddy's little girl.<p>

2. I hate getting tattoos.

When I was little I feared needles. Absolutely loathed them. I would literally faint from fear whenever needles were near me. On the age of 16, I found out my father was training an appetence. A right hand man-who happened to be a woman solider named Delhi who was a deadly as she was beautiful. Awe stricken and very jealous and zealous -as most teens are- I needed to one up her. I needed to earn my father's respect and adoration so badly I stormed into the KG corps and demanded they let me in. However, I was raised a princess, not a fighter and training was complete hell. In fact I failed exams three times. A lot of work outs and gun courses later, I became Ashelin Praxis KG queen. I was second in my classes at the time. (The first being some idiot by the name of Torn). After all overcoming my fear of needles by getting a full facial tattoo that took over four hours was one my greatest ever accomplishments. I was successful in becoming a KG, but not so much in earning my father's favor. Although proud of my dedication to him, he had picked Errol over me as first in command and Torn as second. I was nothing but a pretty trophy and that was the day I wanted to show my father that was more than a bragging rite.

3. I used to have long hair.

My red locks were wavy and thick. It ran to the middle of my back and was perfect in every way. Of course I was always completely conceited so I figured my entire body was perfect in every way. Oh yes, I was not the hard core woman I am now. I was much like any girly girl who prided herself on how gorgeous her super model like hair was. However, it got in the way of my fighting and combat. A lesson that was made clear whenever I was in boot camp and the guy I was sparring with got a fist full of my hair and pulled it tight effectively crippling me. "You know, girls with short hair aren't bad at all sweetheart." He cooed in a low velvet voice that boiled my blood, yet was oddly enticing. Over the course of time I found myself thinking about that velvet voice a lot and I wanted to beat him. It was either cut my hair or get a breast reduction.  
>That day I showed up in a short red up do and manages to pin the velvet voiced man on my first try. Who knew a man, I found annoying and teased me about my favorite feature would serve to be my knight in shining armor, my commander, and the helper of my father's downfall.<p>

4. I kissed Jak once.

It was in a heat of moment. It was a thank you kiss. It was an 'I'm sorry' kiss. It was lusty and one hell of a great kiss. It was something I don't regret. It was something that confused me. It wasn't the end of me and Torn. It wasn't meant to hurt anymore. It wasn't me picking one over the other. It was a kiss. And that's it. I had many kisses, but only one gave me a feeling like for once I wasn't a princess, or a cop, or even a damsel in distress. Only one kiss made me feel like Ashelin. And I relive that kiss every night and every morning and if I'm lucky in between security briefings and while the paper work was being handed in.

5.) I cannot handle my liquor.

as confidant I am, I will refuse alcohol every time. I am a horrible drunk and what's worst my horrible drunk will come out within the 2-3. Shot. No matter what, waking up to the sight of your panties caught in the fan, a sea of fast food wrappers thrown all around the floor, your head swimming and foggy with snippets of a karaoke night playing over and your boyfriend-your ex military boyfriend- staring as though he saw something disturbing (or extremely exciting) it does not leave you with a good feeling. So I may have a single glass of wine and that's only if I locked up in a room somewhere.


	4. Daxter The Sidekick

The five secrets of Daxter

1. My first kiss was with a guy.

WAIT! Wait just a minute before yer get your panties all in a bow! What I told you it was to save a friend. Long along back when orange lighting still had more than two feet of fuzz me and Jak went hunting for wild turtle doves. , which are a tender and quite delicious fowl with a hard shell. We boys were pumped to hunt and bring our village food-of course we weren't actually ALLOWED to go. But C'mon! The forbidden jungle might as well been named the 'Come-in-and- mingle- in -the- fun -and -bring -dates -to -climb -trees and -try- to -get -second- base- with'...jungle. But anyway there I was stalking in the bush, spear cocked, camo on, and pure man. I found my first victim. A plump white featured bird with the signature large white hump on its back. My mouth was watering and I could taste the juicy rice stuffed meal. Carefully...Carefully...my feet inched through the grass; my body was wound and tense like a spring. There was no sound expect water. There was nothing besides me and the bird. Mono en Mono. Him and me...hunter and the hunted! When...  
>Jak suddenly comes through running and screaming like wild man. I turned to see a swam of wimple bees in hot chase and I shook my head knowing that the kid never learns. I watch him run away the bird then he takes a mad dive off the cliff into the water! Slap! Splash! Whoosh!<br>I lean over the edge because it wasn't particularly a long fall, but one that might not be the easiest. I yell down that I was mad he chased away our dinner when I see his body lifeless floating on the river top.  
>Jak is my main man. So like any hero I did a double swan dive into the river and scoop him up and heroically bring him to shore. But Jak was breathing. He just stayed there lifeless and gross.<br>I panicked when I didn't hear his heart beat.  
>Panicked something bad.<br>I couldn't let the kid die so I puckered up, took in a deep long breath and well... when he woke up to see our lip lock he made me promise we never talk of this.  
>That what happened! Saved his life. And it's all completely almost pretty true!<p>

2. I get heartbroken easily.

Underneath the fuzzy heart of a player lays a simpler more romantic Dax. One who loved a certain blue haired girl with all the zest of one pre-teen could muster. She was beautiful, smart, and had a killer personality. I remember watching her smile at me and my heart melted. Just melted. You could take me now from this world! Just smile made my body feel like heaven was real. It was my first actual-er 'happy moment under the waist' but it my first love. Thats when I realized that that angelic smile wasn't aimed at me, but behind me.  
>At my best friend.<br>My only friend.  
>And he was smiling at her.<br>My first love was my first heartbreak. I made up an excuse on why I didn' t want hang on with Jak that day and ran home in tears. I spent the rest of the day locked in my dark room crying...and masterbating. Then switched back to crying.

3. I am not as Brave as you might think!  
>Now now. I know I am the perfect mix of genes: funny, charming, delivshly good looking. I come from a decent gene pool. My parents- well my mother from what I remember of her- used to be super smart. She used to read to me all the time and I recall her voice more than her face. She'd lay me on her chest and read to for hours. I don't remember all the stories or her face, but as clear as day can I remember her sweet low voice, her long orangey red hair, and how comfortable her bosom was. After our family's row boat was sunk by a lurker shark, I was left holding up my mother and treading water. The shark was somewhere below my feet, chewing on my grandfather, and I was holding my mother's limp body above water.<br>She told me to drop her. My mother told me that. I wanted to save her, but I wanted to live too. But I was a coward. I was a good kid, but lacked any kind of spine. I wanted to promise myself that no matter what- I would never leave behind a family member ever again.  
>But I had no family...<br>I lay on the beach, feeling nothing at all until I found myself being lifted up by my hand. He told me I looked hurt and that I could come with him. My eyes took note of goofy green hair, tall stature, and I scoffed at the straightness of his teeth. This kid had to be some sort of loser, but when he said "Let's get outta here, brother."  
>Well I couldn't leave the sad excuse for a boy alone.<p>

4. I wet the bed untill the tender age of...15.

I would explain that my past was cruel and I had to live on the streets and my best friend was in prisons and woe is me... yet. Somehow, my doctor always went on about this weak bladder nonsense.

5. I often think about my old job as an exterminator.

That was the only time I truly did any one good. I liked being the hero and I liked that sexy babe Taryn checking me out! I still see them around the city sometimes, carrying on with their life.  
>There were times were Taryn would find me when no one was around ask to introduce them to my friends back at the naughty ottsel. I would decline much to her confusion. "Don't you want to say I told you so?" Ask Taryn and I'd chuckle. It isn't my story that's going be told, I think to myself. As a side kick, I lift up the hero. It's my job to make him look good.<br>If Jak is Mar, then my best friend needs me to be the brick wall he can causally lean on and look tough. And so long as that pretty little she-ottsel still calls me 'amazing' then how fucking awful can I be?  
>And as long as I know what I'm worth.<br>Then it doesn't matter if I squishing bugs or shooting aliens.


End file.
